Propinquity
by Jessa4865
Summary: Something alters the dynamic between Elliot and Olivia. EO - COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Propinquity

Jezyk

Spoilers: Set in the future, anything through season 10 is fair game.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Obviously.

Part One

She never thought she'd see the day. Really.

Neither did he.

Somewhere in the back of their minds, both simply assumed they'd be leaving Special Victims in a body bag.

So when the day came that Elliot asked to talk to her, Olivia thought nothing of it. He'd done the same thing, bought her a hot pretzel from the same vendor, led her to the same bench in the park, had the same pained expression on his face, the day he'd told her he was leaving Kathy. She expected she was about to hear the details of some family drama that really didn't matter to her, except that it meant a salty pretzel, a treat that she didn't normally allow herself to have because the salt just made her bloated.

But most of the pretzel never got eaten, although she hardly paid enough attention to even notice.

Because rather than explaining that Dickie was flunking out of college, again, or that Lizzie was having problems with her roommate, again, or that Kathleen really wanted to move out of her mom's, again, Elliot dropped a bomb on her. A fucking A-bomb. Olivia's world was crushed like fucking Hiroshima.

The son of a bitch was retiring.

He listed his reasons, the latest attempt of a knife-wielding perp which left a jagged scar down his right side only a blip on the radar of all the injuries he'd received over the years. He was getting older, he said. His luck was bound to run out eventually. And, even if he accepted that four of his babies were grown ups, little Eli wasn't. Lately, he claimed, he'd grown terrified that the poor child, who by three-years-old was already accustomed to being shuttled back and forth between his parents like a damn baton in a relay race, might have to grow up without a father. Maybe without even remembering his father.

Elliot had broken down, sniffling disconsolately at the thought that his son wouldn't remember him.

Olivia was pissed off. Because Elliot was most certainly in the midst of a mid-life crisis and she really wished he'd go out and fuck some pretty eighteen-year-old rather than destroy her whole house of cards. And instead of telling him so, she found herself comforting him, reassuring him that he wasn't dead, that he wasn't going to die, and that Eli would definitely remember him.

And still, the resignation stood.

And still, Olivia refused to believe it.

She didn't want to hear about the plans the boys were making for a party at Mickey's down the block. She swore she didn't care if they hired entertainment, not even if it was in the form of some nubile young thing scantily clad, because she didn't believe there was ever going to be a retirement party. She expected, before long, that Elliot would announce he'd changed his mind, that he couldn't walk away, that he was a fucking cop, after all, and that tended to get in the blood stream like a fucking addiction to heroin.

And honestly, it was about as deadly, which was why she was so sure they weren't going to be walking away with a gold-plated plaque from the mayor and a hearty pat on the back from friends. Cops, real cops, the kind of cops she thought she and her partner were, got carried off in vans to the morgue and their blood stained the street for a few days. Their dedication deserved some sort of remembrance, the sort of remembrance that didn't happen if the last time friends saw them was when they left for home, slightly tipsy, clinging to their plaque like it held the same power as their shield once had.

But the son of a bitch never, ever waivered.

And still, Olivia figured he was calling her bluff.

He was waiting for her to ask him to stay, or something. Because he hadn't mentioned it, not after that day. And even though he completed all his paperwork with a focus he'd never previously had, and even though the day eventually came when he'd forwarded his phone line to Fin's, and even though she had to face the day when Cragen stopped assigning Elliot as primary since he likely wouldn't be there by the end of the investigation, Olivia thought she knew better.

She knew better than all of them.

She knew him better.

But then, on a cloudy Tuesday afternoon, Olivia sat in her chair and watched as Elliot, armed with a small plastic bag, began packing away the photos of his kids. She saw him checking through his drawers, adding an item here or there to the small bag. She noticed the way he checked the desktop one last time after he stood. Out of utter confusion that the man actually thought he was going somewhere, Olivia followed him.

She'd been following him for years.

She started to wonder if he'd planned all along that someday he would cut her loose.

By the time she pushed through the door to the crib, Elliot already had his locker open. He'd pulled out his duffle bag, wrapped the plastic bag in a sweatshirt, and placed it inside. He grabbed the personal items – deodorant, toothbrush, comb – and shoved them into the bag as well. The clothes followed, old pants, stained shirts, whatever had accumulated in the locker in god only knew how many years. He carefully pulled free the pictures taped inside the door, folding the tape over the back to protect them from being stuck together. The shots of his kids joined everything else in the bag.

There was one of the two of them, one of the few shots in existence, that gave him pause. He held it in both hands, his lips curving up the slightest bit as he looked at it. And rather than giving it the same reverent treatment he'd given the other pictures, he offered it to her.

"You want this?"

Her blood ran cold in her veins, her eyes narrowing. She was ready to fight, to scream at him for being thoughtless. Except it didn't really matter anymore if he was thoughtless. At least, it didn't matter to her.

She shook her head. "I have a copy." And she did. It was the one she kept framed in her living room. The one every single man she'd ever had over had asked about. The one they all seemed slightly bothered by while they asked hopefully if he was her brother. The one she never bothered to explain would be the reason she'd leave them all in the dust. The one picture she owned of them, of the man to whom no others could hope to compare.

And the fucker was leaving her.

All of sudden, she wondered if maybe she shouldn't have held them all to such a fucking impossible standard, since in the end, it appeared, Elliot couldn't even meet it.

When he finished with the locker, after finally putting the picture in the bag with the rest, he closed it and pulled the lock free of the door. "Cragen's gone for the day, right?"

She nodded, accepting the lock when he handed it to her. "I'll give it to him in the morning." Thankful for something to do, she turned to her locker, setting the heavy piece of steel on the shelf. It was the only thing she had left, besides that picture, which she was thinking of burning. But it would be gone in the morning.

Just like him.

With a heavy heart, she turned back to him. She heard him sigh as he looked around, the sad tone sounding like he might have finally realized what he was doing. She was hoping he would ask for her advice, finally give her an invitation to stop him. Instead he stepped toward the door.

But he stopped a step later, setting the packed duffel on the floor. "You're not going to show tonight, are you?"

She knew he was referring to his little "party," the one she'd never expected would happen, let alone got the details of. She shook her head, thinking of the three pints of Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough sitting in her freezer, right next to a brand spanking new bottle of vodka, the private party she was throwing for the occasion. With a little luck, she wouldn't remember much come the morning, hopefully a vodka memory block would erase the shithead from her mind entirely.

He nodded, his face revealing that he understood her choice. He waited then, just a few feet away, seeming to tempt her to beg. She swallowed hard, her eyes glued to the floor, wondering how she could still be alive and in so fucking much pain.

Finally, he realized she wasn't about to beg for anything, and stepped around her. His footsteps stopped a moment later, turning around as he moved back for his forgotten bag.

She couldn't _not_ look at him.

But she couldn't ask him to stay either.

She felt like her heart would explode if she didn't breathe, but she was afraid of what she might say if she dared open her mouth. Even so, she heard her own voice drifting over the chasm between them. "I don't know how to say goodbye to you."

The bag hit the floor with a thud, leaving it behind as he approached, closing the space between them to the mere sliver that it had always been since they'd been partners, occupying the area that he hadn't set foot in since the day he'd fucking killed her. He smiled at her, a light, happy look taking over his features.

"You don't have to. I'm not going anywhere."

She scoffed, knowing he wasn't rescinding his resignation. "You never had time for your wife when you were still married and she lived in your house."

He shrugged, blowing off her words. "We'll see each other. I promise." He held her eyes as though he meant it.

She didn't believe a word. She recognized it for what it was – his attempt at mercy. He was trying to pull the knife out of her back without killing her in the process. Knowing she was going to die from the wound anyway, she figured she should at least acknowledge his try. Her hand jutted out at waist height, waiting for his to grasp it.

A formal handshake.

That was how colleagues said farewell.

When they weren't being carried off in a body bag, at least.

She wasn't expecting him to laugh, but she understood how ridiculous the sentiment was. They hadn't shook hands the day they'd met. She tried, of course, because that was how she'd been taught people did things, but a much younger, much dumber Elliot had been there that day, turning to his boss and asking if the man was out of his fucking mind. He gestured at her vaguely and announced, "I'm not working with that," like she was some sort of fungus. She'd contemplated shooting him that day.

In retrospect, she kind of wished she had. It would have saved her no end of trouble. And Elliot too, since there wouldn't have been an Eli for him to worry about growing up without a father.

Feeling stupid for trying, she dropped her hand to her side. And again, she heard her voice, although it seemed that someone else was speaking for her, someone who hadn't gotten the memo that Elliot was the one responsible for hurting her so badly. "If I hug you, I might refuse to let go."

Someone, apparently, who spoke the absolute truth.

And surprisingly, Elliot stuck out his hand, waiting for her to shake it.

And even more surprisingly, the moment her hand touched his, she was yanked off balance and pulled into his arms. Her arms wound around him, clinging to him for survival, knowing it hadn't been at all teasing that she wouldn't be able to release him. He held her, squeezed her hard, letting her know that he, as always, understood what she couldn't say. She felt his breath next to her ear, tickling her neck. Then she heard his voice, solemn and heartfelt.

"I promised, Liv. This isn't goodbye."

He let her go, slowly loosening his arms, letting her know he was abandoning her, giving her a bit of a warning. His lips pressed against hers lightly, quickly, another solemn and heartfelt promise that she didn't believe for one second.

And he was gone before she was even sure any of it had happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

He'd been there before, he knew, on that same phone call, silently begging for mercy for breaking a promise, quietly praying that the voice on the other end wouldn't remind him that he'd broken that same promise three times that week already. Except that he'd always been on the other side, the one making the call, the one whose physical exhaustion showed through in a voice that almost sounded irritated. But unlike the perpetual anger Kathy had always voiced at him, Elliot knew all too well that he wasn't being put off for any reason other than the damned job.

She'd broken their dinner plans three times straight, calling him each night sounding as though she was half asleep on the phone. He could picture her, grabbing a quiet fifteen minute nap in the crib, cutting it to only ten minutes of rest due to a call she felt she owed him.

He knew. He understood. So he didn't give her any shit. He'd rescheduled three times, the last time mutely accepting the suggestion that she'd call to reschedule when she had time. It was hardly the first time and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

And, for some reason, as he kicked his feet up on his coffee table and sat back with a beer to watch the news after a long day where his most pressing issue was whether or not to jog, he envied her. Not the lack of sleep or the fresh horrors or the pressure of solving a case, but something else. The pride, the self worth, something. Perhaps the simple level of fatigue where he could lie down and fall asleep instantly, too tired for memories or nightmares or even regrets.

And in all honesty, he was hardly prepared for the loneliness.

Maybe had he still been married, it wouldn't have been so bad. There would have always been a child in the house, sometimes more than one, sometimes another grown up.

He was wondering if he could count the lovely redhead on channel seven as an acquaintance since he saw her five times a week. And as he sat there, trying to relish the ability to drink a beer without fearing being recalled to the office, Cindy, his standing auburn-haired dinner date, began telling him about the news.

A moment later, a rather haggard looking Captain Cragen was on the screen, flanked by Olivia and Fin who both appeared dead on their feet, pleading with the public for information on a series of young, innocent girls and a greasy looking guy whose face was a series of blurred dots from a surveillance camera enlargement. Cindy cut into the recording from earlier that day, adding her own personalized plea and repeating the Special Victims Hotline number.

It could have been one of a million cases he'd worked, ones they worked together, and he prayed it would end well. But it unnerved him, reminded him of things he'd rather forget, and so he broke up with Cindy, for the evening at least, and turned the channel to watch the exploits of some famous starlets gone astray, pretty young women who thought pedophiles were something they used on their feet.

As the hours crept past, Elliot's mind kept returning to Olivia, to the case, and he knew, as sure as he knew the sun would rise, that she was working herself too hard. He might have been the one retired, but she wasn't getting any younger either. By the time Cindy's cohorts, the eleven o'clock anchors, appeared, Elliot gave up resisting and dialed Olivia's work line, figuring she'd be glued there, waiting for something that would solve the case.

Munch's cranky voice picked up the line, giving the impression that he was probably manning the hotline by himself and had been for some time. It made Elliot smile, understanding why Munch, who'd retired more times than anyone knew, couldn't walk away no matter how many times he tried. But rather than a series of half-serious barbs, Munch only informed him that the place was a mad house, especially since the captain had just sent Fin and Olivia home for the night after Olivia had nearly fainted in the middle of the bullpen.

Elliot was worried, not about why Olivia was fainting, but rather, if she would make it home conscious. He'd seen it before during tough cases. Olivia would get so wrapped up in them, identify so strongly with the victim, that she wouldn't eat. Not for days. Luckily, as her partner, he'd been able to stick food in front of her that would keep her going. Most of the time. He'd seen her stagger more than once, practically dropping into his arms from low blood sugar.

Filled with purpose, Elliot sprang into action, managing to arrive at her door with a bag full of Italian takeout before Olivia even made it home. He stood there, the scent of garlic bread making his mouth water, praying she'd come straight home. He started to panic, wondering if maybe there was another reason she'd canceled their plans, thinking that maybe she had someone else, someone special, in whose arms she planned to snuggle that night.

He'd promised her that he would still be around.

But she hadn't promised him shit.

He was just about to leave in embarrassment when he heard footsteps, more like shuffles, coming down the hall. He looked up, relieved and scared at the same time, watching as his strong, tough partner tripped over her own feet and used the wall as a crutch.

She came to a dead stop halfway between the elevator and her door, her heavy, dark-ringed eyes meeting his. She blinked, squinted, and then dared to lift her hand from the wall long enough to rub both of her eyes.

And then, slowly, a smile spread across her face.

"El?" She shuffled forward another step, yawning without bothering to cover her mouth. "Are you really here?"

He grinned, leaving the food sitting on the floor and making his way to her side. "I saw the news conference. Thought you might not have eaten for a few days."

As he reached her side, she did something she'd never done in all the years they'd known each other. She reached for him, stretching her arms around his neck, sinking into his arms like her legs had finally given out. He accepted the embrace gratefully, always tempted whenever he saw her to do the same thing, always afraid she wouldn't be so welcoming. His face turned into her hair, inhaling the sweet smell that was her, missing her more than he thought possible even though she was right there, in his arms for once.

Her head dropped onto his shoulder, turning toward him like they were dancing. "I miss you."

She was too tired to guard her words, he realized, and although he would have been more than happy to know what she'd confess when she wasn't awake enough to know she wasn't dreaming, he had no desire to violate her privacy. He only wanted to hear what she wanted to give him.

And so he kept her close, guiding her to her door, supporting most of her weight.

It only took a bit of encouragement from him to get a couple bites of food into her mouth and then, her body started to perk up. She woke up, some of her exhaustion having resulted from simply starving herself, and her mood picked up as well. Her face brightened as they spoke, a wide smile peeking through when he regaled her with some of Eli's finest exploits of the previous month since the last time he'd updated her. She rarely smiled like that, in fact, he knew he'd never seen it in all the time they'd worked together, and although he'd been lucky enough to see it a few times in the months since his retirement, it always took his breath away.

Unaware of the cause, but realizing she was the reason for his stare, Olivia ducked her head, a precious, adorable blush sweeping through her cheeks. It was truly amazing to him, to see her behave so differently. After nearly fifteen years of partnership, he'd thought he knew every single thing about her. And those bits of her he hadn't seen, well, he suspected he never would. But still, she continued to amaze him, opening herself up so easily it seemed, so completely. Gone was her slightly-distant, unapproachable persona that had mostly comprised his partner. Gone too was the broken, inconsolable shell of a person she'd sometimes revealed to him when times were especially tough.

Instead, he saw her as a woman. A real woman. A woman who only kept things from him to keep him interested. Maybe she'd changed.

But he suspected that the change had been in him.

Because she'd always been there, waiting for him to notice, standing at his side, so close that he never saw her.

Because he'd always known, not quite consciously, that he'd loved her all along.

Because he'd realized, just before it occurred to him to retire, that he wanted to be more than her work partner. He wanted to be her everything. Just like she was his.

She motioned at the food littering her table. "Thank you so much for this, El. I can't even tell you how hungry I was."

He grinned and shrugged, trying to make her think it didn't mean the world to him that she appreciated it. "I kind of got the idea when you almost fell over in the hall." Her blush returned and he kept teasing. "And I heard you tried the same thing at work."

Embarrassed as she was at her weakness, her eyes latched onto his, her mouth falling open. "Are you stalking me now?"

He chuckled, though the idea had occurred to him during his first days of retirement, if only to keep her safe and to keep him from dying of boredom. "I tried to call to see if you wanted me to bring something by. You should probably tell Munch when you need him to keep something secret."

"Or maybe I should thank him for prompting you to bring me food."

"Want me to beat Fin up for not being a good partner and feeding you?" He knew she'd never reveal any shortcomings of her partner to him and that it wasn't his place any longer to protect her, not that it ever really had been, but he wasn't about to make it easy for her to cut him out.

She shook her head. "It's not his responsibility to feed me." She yawned and stood up. "Want to watch TV or something?"

He nodded eagerly, feeling no need to mention that he already watched far too much television on any given day. He'd do anything if it meant staying close to her. Even if he knew it would probably be better for her to try to get some sleep while she could.

Within minutes, she was yawning more frequently and her eyes were spending more time closed than open. He knew it was time for him to leave, to let her relax, but he just couldn't drag himself to the door. Despite the fact that they did, on occasion, find time to be together, it wasn't nearly as much time as they'd spent together for years, and it simply wasn't enough time. Period.

Her head dropped onto his shoulder, making him think that she'd already drifted off, but she spoke a moment later with words that warmed his heart. "Thank you for being so understanding, El. About me canceling on you all the time."

He probably understood better than anyone ever would, but he didn't bother to say it. Besides, she knew that too. So he turned to her and pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. "I promised, Liv." She nodded and he said nothing else, letting her find what rest he could give her.

He switched off the TV and tried to be as still as he could. Truth was, he was sure, she was dead to the world after going without sleep for days. But as she slept, she seemed to be aware of his presence, her movements coming without the censorship of logic. She turned sideways, pulling her feet up and leaning her knees across his lap. A few minutes later, her hands reached out, curling around his arm and wrapping it tightly in her arms. With his arm locked tight in her grasp, his own movement was limited, and his hand came to rest on top of her leg, lightly squeezing her to let her know he was still there.

And though he knew it was long past time to go, he couldn't bring himself to move. Nor could he disturb the beauty that was his partner, always his partner, no matter what, when she was relaxed and peaceful in sleep.

But he felt like a coward, like he had in the hallway, stealing something from her that she was too tired to hide. So he reluctantly shook her leg a bit, saying her name softly, trying to rouse her without scaring her.

She groaned something that sounded like an attempt at a word, telling him that she was semi-conscious.

"Come on, Liv, bed time."

She shook her head against his arm, her hold tightening from where it had loosened in sleep. "Already sleep."

He grinned, toying with the idea of arguing the point that she obviously wasn't asleep if she was talking to him. Instead, he tried again, shaking her leg a bit harder, trying to get her to come a bit more awake. "Liv, you should go to your bed. You're going to be in all sorts of pain if you sleep like this." She was twisted up like a pretzel, clinging to him in her sleep, which he reasoned, might be damaging to her psyche if not to her joints.

One of her arms released its grip on his, snaking around his stomach, clutching his shirt. Her face burrowed into the folds of his shirt at his shoulder. "I'm too comfy. Don't make me get up."

That was all the excuse he needed. So he let his head fall back and closed his eyes, trying to remember a moment when he'd felt such contentment.

Three hours was all they got before the incessant, torturous beeping that was Olivia's cell phone woke them. Ostensibly, Elliot understood the need for such an irritating sound, as he'd slept through enough phone calls in his time to know that something had to be truly obnoxious to wake someone who was seriously sleep deprived. Still, he was tempted to throw the damn thing out the window.

But he couldn't, because as far as he could tell, the phone was somewhere on her person, and he wasn't about to go patting her down for it. Because that would, invariably, lead to no end of trouble.

After a minute, Olivia's unintelligible mutter indicated that she was aware of the noise. Another minute and she removed her hand from Elliot's stomach to dig into her pocket.

"What?"

He could hear a muffled voice on the other end, probably pleading for mercy from his partner.

"Fine. I'll meet you there."

She put the phone back in her pocket, tightened her hold on Elliot's arm, and dropped her face back into his shirt, muttering several hundred four-letter words regarding Fin, his mother, and various other ancestors.

Elliot laughed, thankful, for once, to be free of the misery that was being woken from a perfectly good nearly comatose sleep and dragged back into work. And having been the one to bug Olivia in such a way so very many times, it amused him to hear her colorful response.

He shook her a bit, reminding her that she was supposed to be getting up rather than falling back to sleep. "I hope you never said those things about me."

She lifted her head, blinking sleepily at him. It appeared that she wasn't quite awake and hadn't understood what he was saying, but then she shook her head and smiled. "Actually, I never felt the urge to curse you out for calling me. Not even in the middle of the night." She began to unfold herself, carefully untangling their limbs, and stretching her body like a cat. Then she shrugged at him with a blush staining her cheeks again. "Of course, I don't think I've ever been that comfortable before in my life."

Knowing she was admitting something she wasn't entirely comfortable admitting, he gave her the perfect opportunity to get out of it. "Sleep deprivation will do that to you."

She stood up, with one final stretch of her arms over her head, pulling her shirt up to reveal the skin of her stomach. "I should get going."

Elliot was concentrating on not grabbing onto her and refusing to let her go, the very same way he'd done when he'd left her side that day at the precinct. Finding an internal well of strength somewhere deep inside, he sighed and walked beside her to the door. "I guess that's my cue to leave."

And so they stood just inside her front door, staring at one another. She obviously didn't want to leave anymore than he did, but her responsibilities called her elsewhere. Her phone started to ring again and she unhappily opened it only to hang up immediately. "I might have accidentally fallen back asleep a couple of times on him, so he usually calls half a dozen times to make sure I'm really up."

He grinned, hearing the unspoken confession, the truth that she just didn't have the same rapport with Fin that she'd had with him. "So, I – uh, well, I'll wait a couple of days to hear from you and when I don't, I'll start calling to bug you again."

She laughed, her smile lighting up her face once again before disappearing when she held his eyes for a moment too long. "Seriously, thanks for dinner. And for putting up with me."

He nodded, uncertain how to tell her that she was the one propping him up and keeping him breathing. He reached out instead, pulling her into his embrace once more, squeezing her to him. She returned the pressure, her arms holding him with equal strength.

The feeling of her body against his was such a tease, such a distraction, that he forgot for a moment where they were, what they were doing. He went with the sensation, an instinct that kept the human race proliferating, and his mouth found hers for only the second time.

But unlike the first, when neither of them had been sure what to think, the shift in their relationship was much clearer. His lips were more insistent, his mouth opening without even a thought. Just like the embrace, she returned the kiss, opening her mouth under his, allowing him a taste of what it could be like.

His hands were knotted in her hair, his tongue twisting with hers, his body smashed against hers so tightly that nothing could come between them.

But her phone's shrill ring jolted them away from one another, years of inappropriate thoughts leaving a well of guilt to pour forth. Elliot couldn't believe he'd been so bold, so forward, especially when, in those nerve-wracking seconds of anxiety, he feared he might have misread her desire to maintain their friendship.

He watched as she opened her phone again and bit off a breathy "yeah, I'm coming, fuck off already" before she let out a shaky sigh and looked at him. She seemed genuinely disinclined to move as she nodded toward the door. "I really have to go."

He nodded, already beginning to relive those amazing moments when he'd been kissing her. "Yeah, I know."

She smiled, brushing her hand down his sleeve and against his own for only a moment in a touch so soft, so wistful he knew it would linger for days, if not years. "Good night."

And then she was gone before he was sure any of it had happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

The gods were laughing at her. She fucking knew it. Fate, destiny, kismet… something up there was having a gay old time laughing its fucking balls off.

She'd already had to put up with Fin's shit all day regarding her good mood, unable to explain that she was simply looking forward to her plans with Elliot. She felt no need to keep her partner of ten months in the loop regarding the fact that it was Elliot's birthday and he'd actually wanted to spend it with her. She was still waiting for the man to realize he was fucking beautiful and start chasing skirts who had far more time to spend with him.

So Fin had prodded her incessantly all day, which they happened to be spending in a cramped sub-compact on a stakeout, asking her about her Mystery Man. The fact that Elliot had actually called during the afternoon, in such a good fucking mood that he'd managed to make her laugh and blush repeatedly, did nothing to stop Fin's teasing.

And although Fin seemed very much of the opinion that her Mystery Man was a romantic sort of attachment, the jury was still out as far as Olivia was concerned. Yes, he'd retired ten months earlier. Yes, he'd kept his promise that he wasn't going to disappear on her. Yes, he'd thoroughly inspected her dental hygiene on two or three occasions. But that was all. There was never anything more. They'd managed to see each other every few weeks, but it was rarely anything more than a quick dinner at one of their apartments. They'd made it to an actual restaurant once, but her power had gone out during a storm and so it seemed easier than trying to eat Chinese in pitch darkness.

Despite his infrequent check of her tonsils, Olivia wasn't going to say they were dating. Because it didn't seem like they were. Because every man she'd ever dated had tried for far more than a good night kiss sometimes, especially after ten months. Deep down, she suspected she was convenient when he was lonely, because he knew she didn't have much of a life outside of work and therefore would never turn him down if he happened to call.

Luckily, that was the part of her mind that she shoved away and rarely listened to. Even if it was just whenever he happened to call, it was, hands down, the most important relationship in her life. The most important relationship she'd ever had. She was just happy that he was there, still calling, still wanting anything to do with her. And she'd actually bought him a present, one that was gift-wrapped and everything, just waiting for her to give it to him.

Unfortunately, the dumbass second shift didn't show up and by the time they'd been tracked down, parked sixteen blocks away from where they were supposed to be, Olivia had already had to call to tell him she'd be late. It was something she expected he was used to, so she wasn't prepared for the sound of his voice, utterly disappointed, yet hopeful that she was going to show eventually.

By the time she'd assured him that she would be there, Fin was spinning the car back around, practically screaming into the radio that they were in pursuit and Olivia was apologizing yet again. The son of a bitch rapist had to choose right then, when they were too close to ignore the call, to run. The road chase hadn't lasted long, they never did as New York City traffic tended to get in the way, but the foot pursuit, well, that was a different story altogether. The fucker had led them around half of Manhattan before she and Fin finally cornered him on the roof of a building. He'd had the idea to jump then, thinking that the suicide attempt might outweigh a series of raped and mutilated women.

It took nearly six hours to complete the paperwork and get a lecture from Cragen as to how the hell they'd let the guy get so damn far in the first place. So when she was on her way out, she paused at the door to check her watch.

Well after midnight. She'd fucking missed his birthday. For some reason, despite that they'd never celebrated each other's birthdays, despite that they'd never celebrated any kind of holidays at all, despite that they'd never appeared to have the sort of relationship where holidays and birthdays were a big fucking deal, she wanted to cry.

Maybe she'd let him down.

Maybe he wouldn't give her another chance.

And so nearly an hour later, she was pounding on his door, knowing he would be sound asleep and pissed as hell and probably not in the mood to look at her anyway. Finally, the door opened a bit, a blinking, irritated Elliot appearing through the crack.

"You've got the wrong apartment." The door was nearly shut again before he finally realized that she was exactly where she'd intended to be. A smile spread across his face as he pulled the door open fully for her. "Hey."

She was surprised he wasn't pissed off and decided she ought to apologize, just in case he was mad and was simply waiting until she was inside the door to yell at her. "Look, El, I'm so sorry. I can't even get into the hell that was my day. But I'm really so-"

His mouth suddenly and effectively cut off any further attempts to apologize. Of course, she was still tempted to beg for mercy, if only because she couldn't breathe and he was squeezing her so damn tight that it actually hurt. But just when she realized she didn't actually want mercy, he backed up, leaving a cold void against hers where his body had been.

He smiled as he closed the door behind her. "I'm glad you made it. I kind of figured you weren't coming."

Setting the bag she'd brought on the table, she reached inside and pulled out a smaller brown paper bag from inside. "I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten."

He looked curious and amused, a combination she didn't often see on the man's handsome face. He reached into the bag, pulling out what she'd managed to find on the way home. Confusion took over as he stared at her. "What the hell?"

She shrugged at the stale, rock-hard glazed donut in his hand. "I was going to get you a cake. I even planned on coconut, cause I know you like it, but-"

He set the donut down on the plate she handed him. "I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but, uh, I'd have to say I would have preferred the coconut cake."

With a laugh and a jab at his side, she rolled her eyes. "By the time I got to the bakery, buster, you're lucky it wasn't a week-old low-fat bran muffin."

"Thank god for small favors, I guess."

Olivia took off her coat, hanging it over the back of one of the chairs. The donut was just an attempt to be thoughtful, and honestly purchased out of desperation after she'd flashed her badge at the bakery owner in order to get him to let her in after hours in the first place. She really had wanted to bring him a cake, and had an actual present for him anyway, but she still felt bad for not coming through on his birthday.

But before she could bother apologizing again, he'd tugged on her arm, pulling her back into his embrace, hugging her for all he was worth. "Thank you, Liv. I mean it. Birthdays suck once you're twelve, but you managed to make this one better."

She was laughing, pulling back to joke with him. "It's after midnight."

He grinned, pulling her closer once again. "Still counts."

And then he was kissing her again, his mouth more demanding than it had been, her mouth perfectly willing to give him anything he wanted.

And unlike the other kisses they'd shared, neither one of them was on the way out the door.

And so, unlike the other kisses they'd shared, it started to progress. First his hands found the hem of her shirt, snaking underneath to press against her back. Then her leg lifted, wrapping around his, pulling his hips closer to hers. His mouth was on her neck, kissing, licking, nipping. She couldn't even think, simply let her body sag against his.

It was when she felt his arousal that she realized she'd better stop him. She had a present for him, a real one, and she wanted him to open it. She didn't want to think she'd shown up with a stale donut and thought that was a valid way to celebrate his birthday. She'd promised she would celebrate it with him, and the man was all about promises, she'd learned.

She pulled back, reluctantly stopping what had finally seemed inevitable. But she remembered how disappointed he'd sounded on the phone and she feared he might just be feeling lonely, which was exactly not how she wanted their relationship to move forward, if it was going to.

After letting him steal one last kiss, she leaned back, out of reach. "Come on, you didn't get your present yet."

He laughed, trying to pull her back. "I thought I was just about to open it."

She scoffed, slugging him playfully across the chest before reaching into the bag for two more items. The first was a candle which she stabbed into the donut. While he laughed, she used the second, a lighter, to set it flaming. Then she presented him with his birthday donut, another step further from being edible with the addition of wax slowly melting into.

He moved to blow it out, but she stopped him. "You have to make a wish first." She watched his eyes turn from the candle to her, slowly moving up and down her body.

And then he met her eyes, a sexy smile forming on his lips. "I think it already came true."

With a blush burning red on her cheeks, she turned back to the bag, withdrawing the one remaining item. She offered it to him, reveling in the surprise and excitement in his eyes as he realized from the expensive wrapping that she had actually done some planning that didn't involve a late night hysterical dash on the way home from work. He took the time to blow out the candle before reaching for her hand, leading her into the living room.

She couldn't remember a time when she'd seen him so happy from something as little as a birthday gift. And while the gift itself wasn't little - no, she'd spent far too much on it but figured he deserved it and would never actually know how much it cost - it was the idea. She knew, even if she'd bought him a pack of gum, he'd cherish it, because it had been years since someone had showed him that they'd really thought of him. And she didn't care so much about going overboard, she figured it would make up for so many years of not getting him anything when it would have meant the world to him.

He took his time with the wrapping, carefully loosening the ribbon, picking off the tape. It seemed to take hours before he finally shed the wrapping and sat before her holding the box. He looked like a little boy on Christmas, a thought which made her nervous wondering how she was going to find another gift.

"Jesus, Olivia," his voice was awed when he spoke. "How much did this cost?"

"That's just rude to ask." She wasn't about to tell him. Besides, she had the money. She wasn't rich, but she wasn't supporting five kids and still siphoning off money to a needy ex-spouse whenever possible. She had a few extra dollars to spend on the man who meant everything to her. "Do you like it?"

He pulled the watch from the case, the silver shining in the light. "Wow. This is nice." He slid it right on his wrist, holding it out for her to admire. "What do you think?" But he wasn't even looking at her, he was staring at the watch, his voice, his face, choked with emotion. "I've never had anything this nice before."

It killed her to hear him say that, though she knew that it was true. She remembered the dark stain that had remained on his finger for months after he'd finally removed his wedding band, which revealed that he hadn't even been able to afford gold for something that he'd wind up wearing for twenty-five years.

She reached for the box, pulling apart the bottom. "There's a cloth in here to polish it if you need to." She couldn't address the fact that he'd never owned something so nice, so indulgent, so selfish. She couldn't accept the fact that the man who put everyone else first had to wait so long to have something for himself simply because no one had ever put him first.

And then he was carefully removing it, replacing it in the box. She panicked, thinking he wasn't going to accept it. She grabbed at his hands, trying to make up something feasible to make him keep it. "I bought it from a vendor, so you can't take it back."

He chuckled, knowing immediately that she was lying. "You did no such thing. Seriously, Liv, if I need to insure that thing, I can't accept it."

"I stole it from the evidence room. If you give it back, I'll go to jail."

He laughed again, staring at the closed box. "Olivia-"

"Please?" Her voice broke and she felt tears coming to her eyes. "Don't give it back. I want you to have it."

He nodded slowly, reaching one arm out to curl around her shoulders. "I love it." He kissed her cheek. "Does this mean I have to sell my car to buy you a birthday gift?"

She was grateful to him for lightening the moment, needing a chance to get her emotions under control. "Nah, this is a pretty big birthday. You deserve something special."

"So I have to sell my car to buy you a gift for your fiftieth?"

She laughed right out loud, still seeing him the way he had been at thirty-five, the day they'd met, all cocky and arrogant, so fucking gorgeous it hurt to look at him. "El, how old was I when we met?"

His eyes narrowed and she watched as he tried to do the math. "Well, you claimed to be twenty-nine, but I know what year you were born, so-"

"Ok, so I was twenty-nine when we met." She grinned at his suspicious face. "And how old did I turn on my birthday two weeks after we met?"

He started to laugh. "Uh, twenty-nine?"

"Right. And how old have I turned on every birthday since?"

He took a deep breath and sighed. "To my knowledge, I'd have to swear you flat refuse to acknowledge that any birthdays have happened since."

Leaning her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes. "So, since I'll never be as old as you, it appears your car is safe." She tilted her face up to glance at him, not at all surprised when his mouth brushed against hers. Her body, despite the emotional roller coaster it had just been on, immediately remembered where they'd been earlier and was perfectly happy to return there.

But that time, it was Elliot who pulled away. His hand tightened around her shoulder, squeezing her against his side. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about. I've kind of hinted at it in the past, but now I think we really should talk about it."

Her heart stopped. She was sure of it.

He'd mentioned it a few times. At first, it had seemed to be just in passing. But then, it had come up with more and more regularity. To be honest, she hadn't been shocked. She'd never believed it was going to retire in the first place, so it wasn't much of a stretch to hear him talking about how he was toying with the idea of going back to work. It hadn't been that long, she knew, he could easily get reinstated.

As many times as she'd deluded herself that she didn't think they were dating, that his kisses meant nothing, that their relationship was platonic and nothing more, she realized it was all bullshit. She loved him. Pure and simple. Had for a long time. And while she'd known for quite some time, he'd never before allowed her to pretend that he loved her too. She loved the time they spent together, she loved that he let her snuggle against him, she loved that every once in a while he would kiss her within an inch of her life and let her think he wanted more.

And there they were, sitting together as friends, with him about to break her heart once again by announcing he was coming back to work with her.

It was like the damn crib all over again.

She'd swear he'd used the same fucking knife to stick in her back.

Except that time, she knew, it had pierced her heart. It was definitely a fatal strike.

Her mind flashed to the engraving on the back of the watch, the one she hadn't pointed out, the one she hadn't been sure she wanted him to know about, the one that she hadn't meant, not even a little bit, to be a foreshadowing. If he ever were to notice the words "_Always my partner,_" he'd probably have a good laugh that she was a psychic.

Except that she hadn't meant that at all. It was just that, in her mind at least, the words partner and love were interchangeable.

Keeping herself from trembling was taking all of her strength, and so she sat there in silence.

"See, I've already made up my mind about what I want, but it's really not just about me." His hand shifted on her shoulder and she feared he might have noticed her unease, but he continued without mentioning it. "I really want to know what you think, what you want. You know, sometimes when I'm walking down the street, I'll think of something I want to tell you and I'll turn to say it and you're not there. It just never seems to sink in that you're not with me twenty-four seven, no matter how long it's been."

She bit her lip, wanting to confess that she missed him like that too, but knowing her sobbing, heartbroken voice would give away how foolish she'd been and if she was going to have to face him everyday at work, she needed to be able to hold her head up and look him in the eye. And she'd only be able to do that if he had no idea he'd broken her heart.

"You keep making time for me and putting up with me, so I figure-" He stopped talking and she felt him shift to look at her. "Are you ok?"

All the strength in the world wasn't enough to keep her from shaking when he called her out on her feelings. But pride demanded that she fake it for as long as she could. "Cold." The fewer words, the less likely he would notice the quiver in her voice that temperature wouldn't explain.

He rubbed her shoulder, trying to warm her up. "I guess, you miss me like I miss you." He let out a sigh. "Or maybe not. I could be misinterpreting everything. I mean, I know what I want, but I can't read your mind, so I guess I'm asking what you want."

She stared at the rectangular gray velvet box that held the watch, wishing, although it had seemed to mean so much to him, that she hadn't bought it. It was a ridiculous gift for a friend. It was a preposterous gift for a coworker. The guys would get a big laugh out of that when they found out who'd bought it. Because even if Elliot somehow had managed to misunderstand how she felt about him, no one else who saw that damned watch would. And likely, the next woman he fucked would be more than happy to enlighten him.

"Liv?"

She looked up, baffled for a moment, unsure why he was looking at her. "Huh?"

"Have you been listening to me?" His eyes were dark, clouded, and she knew he was angry.

Without a thought, she swallowed her hurt feelings and tried to avoid a fight. She absolutely didn't have the energy for a fight. "Yeah, I have. I think you should do what you want. My opinion really shouldn't affect your decision."

His eyes widened a bit, surprise moving in. "It's up to me?"

She nodded. "Yes." Technically, she should be flattered that he was running it by her at all. She was just a friend, after all, and therefore her opinion didn't count for much in a career decision.

He nodded, a smile starting to curve his lips. "That's-" He shook his head, running his hand along the side of her face gently. "That's one hell of a birthday present and it sure as shit leaves that pretty little watch there in the dust."

That hurt. And she couldn't hide it. Her mouth opened and words came out, lashing out at the man who'd not only hurt her so terribly, but had the balls to mock her present as well. "You son of a bitch! That piece of shit there cost a couple thousand dollars, a couple thousand dollars I'll happily take back."

The color drained out of his face immediately. "Jesus Christ, Liv, I thought it was too much at a couple hundred."

She wanted to smack him across the face. She wanted to stick that watch somewhere the sun wouldn't shine too. "Fuck you!"

She snagged the box and headed for the dining room to collect her purse. Then she was going to run far, far away so she wouldn't ever have to face the bastard again, especially not when he reported for duty at the precinct.

But he grabbed her arm, his strong hand closing like a vise. "I'm sorry. I just – fuck, Liv, I don't even know why you're mad. I didn't mean to upset you. It's ok if you want things to stay the way they are." He moved around in front of her, shocked to see the tears streaming down her face. His hand came up to wipe them away. "The watch is beautiful, Liv, and I love that you bought it for me, but it's too much. Let's just leave things the way they are, the way we're able to get along, and I promise you I won't ever bring it up again."

She wanted to lean forward, wrap herself in his arms, accept what he was offering. But she couldn't. She couldn't do that to him, couldn't keep him from the job he loved just because she wanted something else. She shook her head, backing up, pulling herself from his grasp. "No, it's fine. Really. I can't believe it's taken you this long anyway."

He stared at her, his eyes searching hers, his voice uncertain. "Really?" He mirrored her nod. "I guess I am kind of retarded about these things."

She tried to smile, knowing it must have looked positively maniacal. "Apparently you are." She watched as he shook his head, his eyes finally moving away from hers, giving her the option of a lie. "I'm happy for you, El. It's about time." She told herself it would be nice to see him on a daily basis, although she would have to remember not to hug him at every opportunity any longer.

"I guess it is about time, huh?" His face stained several shades of crimson, giving Olivia the insight that he was clearly embarrassed, but not giving any indication why. Finally he shrugged strangely at her. "But shouldn't you be happy for both of us?"

For a moment, she feared she'd missed the point entirely. Maybe he'd been telling her he'd met someone, someone special, someone who didn't want her pathetic ass around any longer.

But then she realized she was the someone, his partner. The someone who should have been happy to have her partner coming back to her. She plastered a smile on her face and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I am."

He nodded, his brow furrowing. "Uh huh, sure you are." He stepped forward, letting his hands find her waist. "I'm going back to the 'Have you been listening to me' question I asked before, cause it's really not clear that we're on the same page here."

She took a breath and told herself to stop reveling in the feel of his hands on her because he was only doing it for emphasis, not because he desperately wanted to touch her. Swallowing hard, she nodded. "I have been listening to you. I told you what I thought. It's great. It's not up to me, but it's great. So I'm glad you're happy." She paused, trying to remember what was missing from her bullshit. "And I'm happy too."

"Ok, if you're sure."

She barely had time to hear the words before his hands moved, abandoning her waist for her back, pulling her forward against him. She wanted to sigh and forget she was mad. She wanted to kiss him and forget he was trying to kill her. She wanted to stop thinking and enjoy one last moment of intimacy.

But her professionalism won out and she shoved him back. "Under the circumstances, I think that might be a bad idea."

"Why?" He was letting her pull back, but not away. His arms were still fastened around her waist. "You said you were ok with it."

"I just think if we're going to be working together again, then we need to reestablish some parameters here."

"When are we going to be working together again?"

"I don't know. I imagine that's up to you too."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. "Olivia, when did I start talking about work?"

She sucked in a breath, forgetting until it was too late that it would smell of Elliot and make her weak in the knees. Still, she tried to keep focused. "When did you stop?"

He laughed, pulling her closer, into a tight hug, his chest rumbling against hers. "Oh, honey, I was never talking about work."

Despite the wondrous temptation to stay there in his bear hug, Olivia pulled back to look at him. "What were you talking about?"

He laughed again, shaking his head at her. "No wonder you weren't making any sense, fuck, I thought I was losing my mind."

"No, apparently it's me." She wanted to share his relief, join his good mood, but she was still waiting to die from the knife wound. "El, what?"

He released her waist, his hands moving up to cup her cheeks. "I was talking about us. About there being an us." He tucked her hair back behind her ears. "And judging from how you reacted, I'm guessing you really don't want to be my partner. So, you either really fucking hate me-"

Us. An us. The words echoed in her head, slowly tumbling into place. "Oh." She shook her head, trying to get the rest of her thoughts back in order. "_Oh._"

"Yeah." He smiled, his hands drifting down over her back, settling at her waist again. "So it's not entirely up to me, right?"

She giggled, partly from the stress, partly from understanding how ridiculous her words must have seemed. "Well, no, I guess not."

"You know my vote."

"And you obviously know mine." She felt so stupid for having freaked out on him, but she couldn't dwell on it, not with the way he was raining kisses on her face.

"I do?"

She laughed, tilting her chin up to catch his lips. "I so don't hate you."

He laughed too, stepping backwards and pulling her with him toward the bedroom. "So can I have my present now?"

She stretched her arms around his neck, making sure he was balanced before she followed suit with her legs around his waist. "I only wish I'd known how cheap it was to make you happy, I could have saved a lot of money."

His mouth moved along her neck, stealing kisses when he could, until he banged into a wall and had to stop. Then he redirected his feet toward his bed. "You can take the watch back, I have what I want."

She was going to point out that the inscription made it non-refundable, but she feared it would distract him. And, since he was laying her on the bed, she didn't want to do that.

She decided she'd tell him in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: This is the last part... And it ends rather abruptly, but I think you'll still enjoy it!_

Part Four

Whoever had coined the phrase "time flies" didn't know the fucking half of it. Really. The beautiful silver watch adorning his wrist wasn't quite the same as it had been the day he'd opened it, but he didn't regret the passage of time revealed by the scratches and dings it had absorbed over the years. He still loved it, possibly more every time he looked at it, simply because she'd given it to him. The only part that hadn't dulled, that hadn't been subjected to repeated damage, was the inscription on the back, the one it had taken him a couple of years to notice. And, of course, it had only made him love it more.

Elliot was double parked outside the school, watching as hundred of kids came pouring through the doors, the bell still echoing in his ears as the screaming masses descended on the unsuspecting sidewalk.

He scanned the crowd of bodies, finally picking out the one he was looking for, unable to hold back the smile. There was his baby Eli, old enough to dispute the title, already too tall for his age, practically galloping to the car.

"Hi, dad!"

Although Elliot winced that the 'daddy' days were gone, he still knew enough to revel in the expression of sheer joy that crossed his son's face the moment he saw Elliot. Eli was sure to outgrow that in another couple of years.

Eli pawed through his backpack, pulling out a crinkled sheet of paper. "Look! I got a perfect grade on my times tables!"

Elliot took the time to look at the paper, grinning at the 'fantastic' sticker the teacher had placed on top. "Great job!" The grade wasn't really a surprise. Eli aced everything. He had no idea where the math gene had come from, certainly none of his other kids had lucked into it, but he suspected Olivia was to blame. She'd had the child identifying parts of speech by four, a throwback to her own childhood as the daughter of an English professor, she'd claimed. She'd had him babbling in Spanish and French by six.

How the hell the boy had gotten to the third grade, though, was a mystery to him.

Of course, how the hell he'd gotten to be a grandfather was a mystery to him as well. Not that it ever stopped him from proudly displaying pictures of Maureen's two-year-old twin boys to anyone he could.

He remembered showing the pictures to his new partner, the one who'd been his new partner for four years, the one he suspected he'd always tag as his new partner, proud as he'd ever been of his own babies. Michaels had rolled his eyes and suggested a vasectomy. Elliot had begrudgingly repeated that they were his grandkids, and at that point, Michaels had taken to calling him Pops.

And fuck if that hadn't gotten old quick.

At least it had given Olivia, who was still proud to be twenty-nine, a good laugh.

He had to admit Olivia had been right – about a lot of things. First of all, he really wished he'd had the sense to claim to be much younger than he was, if only to stop the entire fucking crew at the three-eight from calling him Pops. And she'd been right about the whole retirement thing too. She never quite believed him when he'd eventually confessed that she was a big part of why he'd decided to do it, but she wasn't at all surprised when he brought up the subject of returning to work in all seriousness.

With a grin on his face, he remembered that day, a day that had come not quite two weeks after his birthday. He'd seen the panic on her face when he said he was sick to death of being retired. It was the same panic she'd had on his birthday, when she'd thought he'd wanted to be her partner again. Oh, he'd wanted to be her partner alright.

And how.

But after that night, when he'd finally witnessed her honest reaction to losing the closeness they'd shared since his retirement, when he'd finally had the balls to admit what he truly wanted, when he'd finally found the words to tell her, as she'd snuggled into his arms just as the sun was starting to rise, that he loved her, well, just working with her was simply never going to cut it. Not after he'd discovered what it was like to kiss her and touch her and love her.

And, of course, her threat that if he broke up with her she would chop his body into so many pieces Warner and all the crime scene techs would never be able to put him together enough to determine who he was let alone what had happened to him was enough to convince him that he ought to stay far away from the one-six.

He'd found a position through an old friend, working homicides in the three-eight, where luckily no one would know that Olivia was anything other than his girlfriend. And if they did, there wouldn't be a damn thing they could do about it anyway.

Michaels was a damn baby, so green around the edges that he nearly passed out every time he saw a dead body, which Elliot really counted against him considering that he was a detective in homicide. But Michaels was a smart guy and a good cop and, besides a short, painful encounter where Elliot had watched as Michaels attempted to pick up a very married Maureen, who'd come to have lunch with her father, they made a good team.

Perpetually being called Pops notwithstanding.

And not quite the team that he and Olivia had made, of course.

But still, Michaels was a decent enough guy and so, when the phone lying on the seat next to him rang, Elliot hadn't minded too much, except that he'd have to postpone the promised celebration that was due for a perfect score on the times table test.

He flipped open the phone, already making a mental map of the fastest way to get Eli to his mother's so he could report to work. "Yeah, hello."

"Stabler?"

Michaels' voice, coupled with the atypical sound of Elliot's name, made his heart skip a beat.

"What?"

"You used to work the one-six, right?"

Panic was already setting in, his heart making up for that one skipped beat by pounding a million miles a minute, his ice cold, sweaty hands gripping the wheel as he sat stupidly in traffic unsure of where to go. "What? What happened?"

Michaels wasn't one to mince words, so the answer was delivered immediately, without hesitation, only wavering a bit on the name, as though he were checking his notepad. "There was a 10-13 called, then an officer down. Called in by a Phil Tulolla-"

Elliot's mind was a jumble of confusion. What the hell was Michaels talking about? And then it clicked. "Fin? Fin Tutuola?" He didn't even wait for the confirmation, not with a 10-13 called in by Olivia's partner. "Where?"

"St. Kat's. That's all I've got."

Elliot snapped the phone closed, grabbed the red light out of the glove compartment, and sped through the streets. He didn't hear the cry of excitement from Eli, giddy for getting to ride in a "real police car." He didn't hear the unhappy drivers who he nearly hit on the way. He didn't even notice when he went tearing the wrong way up one-way streets. There was only one thing on his mind, and that was getting to Olivia's side.

He damn near forgot Eli as he stormed through the doors of St. Katherine's emergency room. And Eli, though tall for an eight-year-old, was no competition for Elliot's long, powerful legs. He'd gripped his father's hand, running to keep up, understanding without words that something was very, very wrong. But no matter how fast Eli ran, Elliot found it was faster to scoop the boy, backpack and all, into his arms. He protested, finding it embarrassing that he was being carried, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Elliot was screaming at the poor woman who'd happened to be at the front desk. "Olivia Benson! Where is she? She's the detective they just brought in!"

The woman's eyes were wide and frightened, her hands shaking as she tried to type.

"Where is she, damn it!" His shout frightened even Eli, who buried his face in Elliot's shoulder.

"She's not in the computer yet, but I saw some police heading that-" The woman pointed to a hallway on the left and was about to say more, except that Elliot was already tearing off, as though he might be able to force his way to wherever she was.

He came skidding to a halt as he cleared the next set of double doors. He immediately recognized the forms of Cragen and Fin, though they had their backs to him. There was a doctor, splatters of blood on her jacket, speaking to them. He thought he might die as he took in the blood. He barely noticed Eli's body slipping from his hold, sliding down to the floor, his sneakers barely making a sound as they hit the ground. He didn't even notice the way the child uncharacteristically wound his arms around his father's waist in fear.

Elliot only heard the doctor's voice, straining to pick up every detail from half a room away. Surgery. Blood loss. But yet, ok. He let out a breath, fairly sure he was going to pass out. She was going to be fine. Just needed a little patching up and she'd be good to go.

Elliot collapsed into a chair, realizing his petrified son hadn't understood the words. He put his arm around the boy's shoulders, trying to explain as best he could that Olivia was hurt, but still ok.

Eli's eyes were wide and scared, despite Elliot's assurances. The boy had known Olivia all his life, he saw her as often as he saw his father. He had a bond with her, a bond, Elliot knew, that had formed the moment he was born, in the back of an ambulance a lifetime ago.

"Can I see her?" Eli's eyes were wet with tears he refused to shed, a Stabler through and through. "I want to see Liv."

Elliot nodded and squeezed the boy's hand. "I know. I do too. But she's going to be ok. That's what the doctor said." He reached for his phone, thinking to call Kathy to pick up Eli. There was no point in making him sit in the hospital all night when Elliot knew full well that children weren't allowed in the post-op rooms. But selfishly, he didn't want to be alone. He wanted to have something to hug. And so he put the phone away.

"Maybe you can see her later."

Eli stared at him with squinted eyes, trying to size up his honesty, a habit he'd definitely picked up from Olivia. It made Elliot smile. And so Eli nodded, deciding his father was telling the truth.

Elliot staring at the floor while his brainiac son pulled out a thick book and started to read. His hands knotted together, boredom and nerves working in tandem to stress him out. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Cragen and Fin moved to sit in a set of chairs facing the other hallway. He sighed in relief. He harbored no bad feelings for them, had no problems with them at all, but he didn't feel like bringing them up to speed. He hadn't seen either one since the day he'd retired, despite Olivia's partnership with Fin. And Olivia hadn't wanted to mention their relationship to anyone. Elliot could hardly blame her. He knew what that would look like to everyone; he knew what it would do to her reputation.

And since it had been so long since they'd seen him, they hadn't even recognized him, not with the way he was bent over, leaning on his knees. And they hadn't seen Eli since before the child could walk, so it wasn't hard to see how they'd just assumed Elliot and Eli were another pair of people waiting for an update on someone.

It amused him, to listen to their chatter, obviously more relaxed with the news that Olivia was going to be fine. Cragen had asked about notification.

And Fin had only shrugged. "She doesn't really talk about her personal life, you know? I know she's seeing somebody, but that's all I know about him. She hasn't even told him his name."

Elliot could hear Cragen's tired sigh. "I could swear she never updated her ten card."

Fin looked at his boss. "Don't tell me to call her brother. Liv hasn't spoken to him in years, even I know that."

Fin was exactly right, though he probably had never gotten the story. All Simon ever wanted to talk about was his dad. He told Olivia story after story about what a wonderful, unbelievably perfect father the man had been. It had led to Olivia coming home from dinner with him in tears more than once before she'd given up and broken off contact. She'd wanted to know her family, but she hadn't wanted to discuss her father.

Cragen snorted. "Fuck no, I'm pretty damn sure it still lists her partner as her next-of-kin."

Fin turned to Cragen, his disbelief fairly clear in his tone. "Me?"

"Elliot."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So does that mean we're supposed to call him?" Fin actually sounded like he wanted Cragen to tell him what to do. Elliot couldn't wait to tell Olivia about the conversation.

"Are they still in touch?"

Fin shrugged. "I don't know. She never mentions him."

Cragen sighed again. "If she hasn't mentioned the man in five years, she probably doesn't want us to call him."

"I don't really want to call him and tell him she's hurt anyway." Fin paused for a moment. "You know, just in case."

"First thing tomorrow, I'm instituting a new policy. Everyone is updating their contacts every Friday."

"Every week, cap, that's a little excessive."

"Not if it spares me sitting here trying to guess who the fuck one of my detectives wants me to call when they're hurt."

Snickering softly to himself, Elliot shook his head. Olivia was going to get ripped a new one for not updating her information, but technically, although he was no longer her partner, it was still correct. And in that case, Elliot understood why she'd left it alone. He was still her next-of-kin and his phone number hadn't changed.

A little less than an hour later, the click of high heels sounded on the floor. Elliot's attention perked up, but he waited to hear, silently squeezing Eli's hand in his.

The same doctor was back, fixing Cragen and Fin with a smile. "Detective Benson is fine. She's in recovery. Are you her husband?"

Fin's mutter of "oh, thank god" carried through the room. Then he spoke up, knowing that doctors had a blind spot where patients were concerned and assumed all of them were happily married. "I'm her partner. She's not married."

Cragen piped up, perhaps trying to cover for the fact that he hadn't contacted Elliot yet. "We're working on notifying her next-of-kin."

With a smile, the doctor shook her head. "Um, no, you don't understand, Detective Benson is asking for her husband."

Elliot watched as Fin and Cragen turned to each other, silently accusing the other of holding out on them. And then, with a huge smile and Eli at his side, Elliot stood up. "I'm right here."

Fin and Cragen seemed to turn in slow motion to look at him, confusion, amusement, and shock washing over their faces in rapid succession.

"Your wife's going to be fine." The doctor smiled at Elliot, stepping around the clueless twins and approaching him, lifting her hand to direct him down the hall. "Oh, and she wanted me to tell you, the baby's doing ok, wasn't harmed a bit."

The words hadn't even sunk in by the time he made it to her room. In fact, they seemed to hit him just as he crossed the threshold, causing him to stop so suddenly that Eli crashed into his legs.

"Baby?"

Olivia just smiled at him, her eyes dancing.


End file.
